Another Criminal Girl
by Cry-Of-A-Warp-Engine
Summary: I struggle to remember my life, I get terrified by and sometimes kill new people, I look like I'm still in my early teens and I'm on the run from the police across the whole U.S.A... and there are reasons for it too. If you want... I can tell you those reasons.
1. I'll Explain

Hi.

So my name's Caitlin. Well... it's Caitlin but it's not Caitlin.

My parent's were idiots. It's spelt K-VIII-lynn.

VIII = 8

K8lynn.

Yep. My name is K8lynn. I often used to get the nickname 'Infinite 8'. I'm still not entirely sure where that came from.

But anyway. My life... fuck it, man, fuck my life. It's not as good as yours.

You lot. Sat there with your gadgets, your phones, laptops, TVs, sat in warm houses and comfy chairs.

And me... I'm in a car. I live in my Vapid Sandking XL... still, at least I'm not short for space.

But anyway, getting off topic there... or maybe it is topic.

How did I end up here?

I'll give you a bit of background. I'm the only person EVER to survive lethal injection. That's right, I survived execution AND escaped the jail.

Okay, maybe it wasn't that smooth.

The injection gave me excruciating- why am I telling you this now?!

The injection made me forget a lot of things. It's an unanswered scientific question as to what happens when you survive lethal injection. Well... I know.

It's hell.

Before, you're terrified, you want to appear big but you're terrified with the knowledge that in a few hours, you're gonna feel a sharp pain as the needle goes in, then nothing. But afterwards, when you survive... that's when you want to die.

I couldn't remember ANYTHING. Not a single bit of my life before about a year before the execution. Of course, the memories have come back now, but they're still damaged. My brain is damaged. The only thing that didn't happen is death, everything else still happened, including my brain being fucked up.

So... I'm going to tell you what happened, basically the events in my life that led up to this. But I'll have to tell them in the order I remember them, my memories aren't in the right order. But I can easily say my age at the start of each part.

So sit back, relax, and enjoy my sorry-ass life story.


	2. First Times

I'll start at what my brain thinks to be my earliest memory... I was 16.

I walked into North LS High School on that regular Thursday, nothing out of the ordinary... that is until I walked over to Hugh and the gang that always hung out at one of the trees in the courtyard, a couple of them smoking... and that smell when I walked over, that was definitely not tobacco... it was weed.

"Hey, tinybabes." Hugh said, lightly patting my shoulder. I've no idea what the hell made me hang out with them, but it certainly changed my life that day.

"Hey... wassup?" I replied, Hugh kissing me, the gang of boys watching... I must've be a spectacle to them, only 4ft 9 at 16, wasn't exactly very big either... if anything, I was, and still am, a rather slim and short one, which is why a lot of the time when I walk with other people who are my actual age, they ask if I'm the other person's kid. I've asked strangers, used a couple of websites, it seems that everyone thinks I look somewhere between 10 and 14 years old.

But anyway, back to when I was 16.

Hugh raised his cigarette, about to take another puff but thinking for a moment... before he handed it to me.

"Just take a breath and blow it out." Hugh said. I hesitated, remembering what I'd been told about what drugs can do to you... but I did it anyway. I coughed a bit at first but quickly got the hang of it...

Then the weed took effect.

I felt weird, everything looked weird and out of focus.

I can't remember what happened next, but the next thing I can remember is suddenly being in my bedroom at home with Hugh pushing me against the wall, kissing me roughly and tearing my shirt open... and I want it. I crave it.

He pushed me down to the bed with my clothes scattered across the floor, his too. He leans over me, kissing me and touching his tip to my entrance... there was one problem back then though.

I didn't know it was going to hurt.

So when he pushed inside, the sudden pain shocked me and made me cry out. I'm not entirely sure, it's not something you look at, but I expect there was blood down there. And Hugh didn't let me adjust for very long, stopping when I asked because I thought something was wrong.

"Hugh... it... hurts." I managed to say, Hugh looking surprised.

"How did you not know, 8? It hurts for a girl on her first time, always does." Hugh said. I couldn't, and still can't believe I hadn't known. Schools teach sex education, they don't exactly mention anything about the differences on the first times... and movies never show a girl in pain in those scenes, I always thought it was the same at first as it always would be. Just shows how innocent I was.

I nodded, Hugh carefully and slowly continuing.

It stopped hurting a little while later, replaced by pleasure, a rising pressure inside me. It was then that I discovered just how easy I am to please, I screamed out in ecstasy as I felt the pleasure grow and rock through my whole body, which shook a little in response. Before I'd even had the chance to fully recover from that, Hugh continued thrusting himself in and out of me and I screamed again another few minutes later, this repeating a few more times before on what must've been about the 5th time, he moaned deeply at the same time I screamed, this one feeling particularly stronger as I felt him release inside me.

We both went limp, Hugh carefully rolling me over and pulling the bed covers over us... My father must've been out that evening, he'd always told me to wait until I was 18 to have sex so he would've been mad.

And he was mad the morning afterwards... but hey, that's another memory.


	3. Small but Significant Memories

So now I'm 14...

I got up from the couch after watching Doctor Who, Tooth and Claw. I missed those David Tennant episodes.

That was a different time... My life never has been normal.

I'll tell you all now, since I can't actually remember it... When I was born, I was one of what should've been triplets. It all went wrong, though... I turned out to be largely conjoined to one of the other babies and the third baby was stillborn... Then my mother died. It was all too much on her.

So when I was born... I was born with a third thumb that actually worked fine until I was 5, when it locked up and had to be amputated. I was also born with a third arm coming out of my chest, the arm being badly deformed and amputated right away. Then... There's the one I'm really known for.

I've got a thing called Pupula Duplex. To put it basically, my right hand eye has two pupils in one larger than normal iris... That freaks some people out. Other people love me for it, I remember it pretty much made me a celebrity at high school... You just read where that got me one day.

The only problem with it is, Pupula Duplex is so rare, some people think it's a myth.

But this sort of thing is for another time, I'm not explaining myself to you, I'm telling you the events that led up to me being where I am now, in the incorrect order that I remember them.

So getting back to the point, back to me being 14 in 2008.

I walked into the kitchen, pouring some water from the filter jug into a glass and adding some apple squash juice. I sat down in the living room with the glass of juice as the next thing came on, Miami Vice, Down For The Count. The reason I remember this particular day of me being 14 is because this was the first time I watched Miami Vice, and I instantly fell in love with the show.

The next thing to come on once that had finished was America's Got Talent, so I switched the TV off and stood up, walking down the hallway to my room. The house me and my dad lived in was a small one with only one floor, since there was only the two of us. I mean, for just a father and his daughter, we didn't exactly need a castle. That would be interesting, though... to live in one of those stone castles in England...

Never mind, getting off topic!

When I enter my room, I fell down on my bed and instantly, started searching up Miami Vice on my laptop. I'd easily recognised that it was 80s from the camera quality, having the same look as the Smokey & The Bandit films which were made in 1977, 1980 and 1983, so the last one was shortly before the show started.

And that's all I remember of that... strange how things fuck your mind up, isn't it?

* * *

So instead of ending it there, I'll tell the next thing I remember... when my dad found me and Hugh the morning after me and Hugh hooked up.

We were both woken up suddenly by the sound of my bedroom door being opened violently, so that it swung all the way back and the handle knocked against the wall. I can't count the amount of times I slammed my door in a fit of rage, but this time, it was my dad who was raged.

He yanked the covers back and I know the three things that enraged him. One, I was naked. Two, Hugh was also naked. Three, the blood on the bedsheets, which was plainly visible because my sheets were yellow.

He grabbed Hugh by the arm and pulled him off of the bed, pulling him by his ear and throwing him out of the front door, throwing his clothes out after him. By the time he returned to the bedroom, I'd pulled my underwear and my nightie on.

"I'm pretty sure you're not 18, K8lynn!" Dad says. It was one of the few times I can remember him getting angry at me.

"I'm sorry Dad, but..." I said as he sat next to me on the bed... the thing is, this wasn't like me. If my father told me something, I would listen. If he told me to do something, I'd do it. So he knew that something wasn't right when I disobeyed him and had sex at 16... I can at least see what he meant though, 18 is a more sensible age.

Dad looked at me, the anger disappearing and being replaced by concern and the calm look he always had. "What happened? I know this isn't like you."

I had to really muster up the strength to tell him that I'd smoked weed, but I did. I told him how Hugh convinced me into it, how I blacked out and that the next thing I knew, me and Hugh were naked in the bed. And he listened silently until I'd finished. When I'd finished talking, he hugged me and I started crying, partially from the ache between my legs but mostly because I knew I'd fucked up, real bad.

"It's okay, K8... it's not your fault." Dad said, lightly stroking my hair as I slowly calmed down.

The rest is a bit fuzzy, but I remember taking painkillers to weaken the ache. And judging from a few of the days afterwards, we must've agreed that for my own safety, I steer clear of Hugh and the gang.

But none of that is relevant to why I'm where I am now... Next memory, then.


	4. Streets

This is a rather dark memory, shortly after my 17th birthday. But has the biggest part to play so far.

I enter the house after finishing another day of school, finding my dad sat in his armchair in the living room, asleep. I just went into the bathroom and had a shower before sitting on my bed and going on my laptop. I watched a few things and was on a video call to a school mate before I started getting a little concerned.

It was 17:00 and Dad still hadn't cooked dinner, which we usually ate at around 16:30. So I went into the living room... that was when I knew something was wrong. He was in the exact same position he'd been in when I came home from school.

I checked his hand. Cold.

I checked his wrist and neck... no pulse.

He was dead.

My father, the man who raised me, was sat there in the chair, lifeless... he must've died while I was at school. But he was only in his 40s... he smoked though.

When the paramedics arrived, they confirmed that he must've died at around about midday and that it was of a heart attack.

They asked me if I had anyone I could go to. "No" I replied. My mom died when I was born, my dad had been the only family I'd ever known.

I went upstairs as they called the police... I wasn't gonna get passed around between care homes and orphanages, I wanted to live somewhat normally... so I packed a few of my essential items, making sure to pick up the family photograph book, before going to my dad's body. I closed my eyes... then I left out the back.

I walked around for a while, stopping and getting my dinner at a café by the beach before looking for an alleyway or staircase into the ground, trying to find somewhere to sleep. Eventually, I found an alleyway and laid out my sleeping bag, getting inside and zipping it up... only then did I really let my emotions out, the tears starting to fall.

Needless to say, I cried myself to sleep that night. And I cried myself to sleep every night for the next two months I spent sleeping in alleyways.

But anyway, back to it... I was awoken by someone entering the alleyway and I looked up... there was a guy there, looked to be in his mid 20s, wearing a backpack and looking at me. I knew from looking at his clothes that he was also homeless, like I now was.

"Safety in numbers." I said, nodding. The guy nodded back before setting out his sleeping bag near mine.

"Name's Joshua." The guy said after he finished setting his stuff out for the night.

"K8lynn. Some people call me 8." I said, the guy extending his hand and I shook it... unlike me, he obviously had no money and looked like he hadn't eaten for a few days, so I reached into my bag and handed him a ham roll that I brought from the café.

"That's yours, not mine." Joshua said.

"Only way we survive is by helping each other." I said. Joshua thought for a moment before taking the ham roll and starting to eat it. He looked at me and my things while doing so.

"You ain't been on the streets for long, have you?" Joshua said.

I shook my head. "First night... what got you out in these alleyways?"

"Couldn't afford my apartment anymore, went back to my parents' place and they called me a bum and slammed the door in my face. You?" Joshua said.

"No family... Mom died when I was born, Dad died earlier today." I said.

"Sorry... for the loss." Joshua said. I nodded before we both went to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, I found that Joshua was making a small fire with newspapers and old bits of wood.

"Just for warmth, it's a cold morning." Joshua said. I reached into my bag, grabbing another thing I'd brought with me from the house. A pack of sausages.

"Breakfast?" I offered. He smiled and nodded.

"What's in that big case?" Joshua asked, nodding towards the black plastic case that was also inside my bag.

"Portable gas stove... I figured we'd be better to conserve the gas I have, only got one can." I said, Joshua nodding before using a couple of sticks he had in his backpack to hold the sausages over the fire.

I was gonna miss my dad like hell and it was gonna take some time to get used to this new outdoor, living on the minimum lifestyle, but I knew I'd be okay if Joshua stayed around.


	5. Behind Bars

It was about a year later that my next memory happened.

"Damn it... K8lynn!" I heard Craig Caril shout and ran to him... There outside were four Karin Rebel 4X4s, guys getting out of them with guns... This would've been so much easier if Sam and Rys hadn't both been in the hospital.

"Guns!" I say, me and Craig going down to the basement and grabbing shotguns, loading them and returning upstairs. I jumped back as one of the guys fired, wood splintering from the doorframe and flying across the room.

I moved around the corner and fired my shotgun, hitting and killing one of the guys before me and Craig advanced outside, trying to push the attackers back. One ran at Craig, who fired and hit the guy in the head, the force of the multiple rounds blowing half of his head off, blood going everywhere.

"8, get out of here, divert them away!" Craig shouted over the gunfire.

"Don't get shot!" I shouted before I ran across the fields, firing back at the guys who ran after me... Only to be tackled down to the ground.

"You are under arrest, do not struggle!" I heard. _'Fucking cops!'_ I thought as I felt cuffs being clicked around my right wrist... before I heard the attackers running across the field. Quickly, I grabbed one of the cops' guns and fired, killing the attackers before being tackled down again, the cuffs now locked around both of my wrists.

I knew the moment the cop car door closed... I was well and truly fucked.

* * *

There I sat in a jail cell... Cold and alone. Well, apart from the loud snoring of my neighbour...

Jail... Of all the places, I never thought I'd find myself there. The idea of being a criminal was bad enough without finding myself... there... on the death row. They wanted me executed by injection within half a year... maximum of 6 months left to live.

What would you do with that time? If you were told that you had only 6 months left before you died... what would you want to do? Spend time with your family? Go somewhere new? Maybe... maybe there'd be someone you'd want to tell how much you love them.

But I couldn't do that... I was stuck behind bars with no one to comfort me.

"Hey girl? What you in here for?" I heard and look through the barred window into the cell on the left of mine, seeing the source of the voice. It was another girl, about the same age as me.

"Apparent murder... it was in defence, they were attacking the farm I lived on. You?" I said, suddenly remembering how similar this sounded to mine and Joshua's first conversation.

"Multiple counts of store robbery... active life." The girl said. Store robbery...

"Well, running from armed cops is one way of keeping fit, I suppose." I said, the girl laughing a bit.

"My name's Alana. Yours?" The girl said. I responded with my name. "Nice to meet you, K8lynn." She said.

"Same to you." I replied, Alana nodding before laying back down and closing her eyes. I did the same...

Good thing to have a companion in jail. So... here's another memory of jail.

* * *

Rule 1, never go off alone.

Especially if you're a small, petite, seemingly attractive teenage girl.

I walked into the block's bathroom, going to the sinks and splashing cold water on my face. The block was one where the bathrooms were unisex, so the few girls who were there were always cautious of certain other prisoners.

Some people frown upon stereotypes, including me, but the one where it says women are hardly ever in jails and the inmates will be mostly men is actually quite accurate in most places. In Bolingbroke, there were 35 female inmates and over 400 men. That means that at that time, about 11% of us were girls... I think. Fuck, messed up brains aren't good at math!

But taking all of that into consideration, it's not so abnormal that the moment I looked up, I was grabbed from behind and turned around, a bald headed guy holding me against the wall. He had a tattoo of a snake on the right side of his face and neck which on his temple, was spitting venom towards his eye.

"Hmm... you ain't had many in you, have ya?" The guy said, his mouth so close to me I could feel his breath on my neck. I knew that unless someone walked in right at that moment, the worst thing would happen.

Someone did walk in, another guy. He looked at us before he... walked over...

You really, really don't want to know what happened next. I'm not going to tell you so you can actually sleep tonight. But a few minutes later...

I grabbed the sink, reaching down and pulling the guy's... well, you know what it is, pulling it out of me after I'd grabbed the tap from one of the sink, managed to pull it off and smash the guy's head in with it. There was no questioning that he was dead, half of his brain was on the wall.

That added another death to my record.

That night, I was in an isolation cell, no light, no one else... it didn't feel right. I'd spent 3 months behind bars now and in the isolation cell, without Dino snoring away to my left and Alana talking to me about her life before jail, nothing felt the same. It all felt...

Empty.

I was behind bars, months away from execution and my life was empty.


End file.
